


I'm Not The Moon

by codewc (orphan_account)



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cunnilingus, M/M, One Night Stands, POV Second Person, Strap-Ons, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, trans 2d, very minor paula/2d
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-03 09:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10241729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/codewc
Summary: "Afterwards he said I was a good listener, and not like all the other girls."-Stuart Pot, on his one night stand with Two's A Crowd's frontman, Murdoc Niccals.(AU in which one of Murdoc's first bands actually took off and Stu is a fan.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I return with smut, haha! If this wasn't an AU I would've just called it a PWP, tbh. 
> 
> I've dated two transmen, but I wouldn't call myself the expert on transmen's sexuality. That being said, I do know that some transmen have preferred names for their genitalia, so I'd like to, uh, "warn" that Stuart refers to his as a vagina, pussy, cunt, etc. If I've crossed any lines or pushed any inaccuracies, please let me know!
> 
> I've had this AU in mind for ages, but I'm not too sure if I'd ever do any more with it. If you wanna talk about it, though, I'd be happy to at my gay gorillaz blog @russdoc!!!
> 
> I know I haven't been too active on here, but I've suddenly been hit in the stomach by life, so fanfiction is low on the list of priorities for me. I've decided to just write it for fun from now on. Like this fanfic!

He recognized you.

 

This had been the fifth show of theirs that you had attended, but you're still not used to it. You swore it just got louder and louder, and you can't seem to keep up with the rest of the crowd's almost unanimous movement. The smell made you nauseous and you'd get sick afterward. To summarize; it wasn't always pleasant.

 

Despite that, you still bought tickets for their Crawley shows. It was one simple reason you admitted to yourself weeks prior, and that is the frontman, Murdoc Niccals, and your budding crush on him. You didn't know what it was, really. Your friend, Paula, had suggested that it's probably because he's such a dandy ("like Errol Flynn") but you're sure that was just a joke on her part. It could be just the way he carried himself - his confidence, despite all the criticisms thrown his way. He is crude, though. A bit of a wank. Or maybe it is because he's, uh, interesting to look at. Handsome - maybe that's the word. You liked his voice, too, even if it had sounded like a goblin for you at the beginning. Whatever it was, it pulled you to these shows.

 

This time, at least, Paula had joined you. This had lessened the pressure for you, she is becoming a sort of bodyguard for you. Or maybe she just liked shoving people out of her way. You're not sure. A disadvantage, though, was her yelling at Murdoc and making rude gestures at him. Although he hadn't noticed yet, you tried and failed to shush her. "Come on," she muttered to you, "I'm trying to make him notice you."

 

 You looked back to him, even if you could barely see him from across the crowd (it didn't matter much; you had practically memorized his face) and feel something turn in your stomach.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It wasn't too obvious at the time, but there had been difficulties in the middle of the show. Liam, the guitarist, had whispered something to Murdoc. Then Murdoc enthusiastically removed the mic from its stand and walked toward the audience. They lapped it up, people behind you began hollering. You couldn't hear what he had said over all of the noise, but people from the front collectively began to laugh.

 

He sat down at the edge of the stage, addressing the audience as they were setting up behind him. You found it very charming and the suddenly relaxed feeling throughout the crowd was so relieving. It was the second or third joke when Paula piped up. "Hey, Murdong," she called. You were horrified, yet stifling a laugh as you tried to shush her. It was too late, though. "Who the fuck was that?" Murdoc replied, and the audience roared. It wasn't long until they push you and Paula to the front. Your heart thudded against your ribs and your nerves were shot. You shaded your eyes from the stage lights.

 

You could practically smell him. "What're you doing here with your Smiths tee?" Murdoc chuckled, referring to Paula who only laughed with the rest of the crowd. "You're not a regular," he continued, cheekily, and then turned to you. His eyes locked on you.

 

He recognized you.

 

"Now THIS is a regular," he gestured to you, an open arm invitation. The crowd roared again, Paula nudged you to his direction. You stumbled forward, hooked by his arm around your shoulders. You got stiff. His knee knocked your hip, his sleeveless black shirt tight and the sweat gleaming his neck made you press your thighs together. This wasn't the best time for this. His cheek brushes yours and his fingers graze your upper arm. "I know that blue hair anywhere," he slurred - from excitement, but you don't gather that at first. There's a soft chuckle from the crowd in reply. "W-what's your name?" he brought the microphone to your lips. "Stuart," you answered, evoking another applause from the crowd. "Stuart! Thanks for coming to the show." This eased you, surprisingly. You leaned to him.

 

"Is this your girlfriend, S-Stu? Are you single?" he asked, and you felt a heat between you form from the intimate contact. His breath and yours were practically shared. "No-" you shake your head "-I mean, she's not my girlfriend. I'm single." Murdoc slapped your shoulder and he shoots you a smirk. "Well, Stu, we're gonna get you fucking laid," he announced, and the crowd responded appropriately. You squirm where you stand, suddenly filled from your toes to your collarbone.  "Any takers?" he continued. You got too excited too quickly. He leaned back to you. "See, Stu, is all about playing up the sympathy, eh?" he muttered, partly into the mic. "Stu is actually an orphan," he announced, which caused a wave of laughter. "And he's being pursued by his uncle, Count Olaf." Another wave.

 

You chuckle beside him, your disappointment was forgotten as soon as he smiled back at you. You felt yourself reveling in this attention on you, your anxiety finally digested. "You okay, Stu? You're great. Everyone give it up for Stu," he slides his arm off you and you feel relief, and satisfaction as he pats your back and winks at you. The crowd claps, and you can hear some whistles as you return to Paula. Murdoc had gotten up and returned to his stand with his guitarist and drummer in tow. The show continued as normal.

 

It takes you a moment to realize your thighs were damp.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 Liam had invited you backstage. "We always invite regulars," he had explained. "We would've invited you last time, but you ran off before we could." Again, Paula nudged you forward.

 

You're following Liam through the hallway, Paula by your side. "Oh, my God," she muttered to you, "we're gonna be with the groupies." You told her this couldn't possibly be true - this was an after-party thing, obviously. Then he turned back the curtain, and you were wrong.

 

You had been overwhelmed. You were one of the few men there (it surprised you there were men at all) and Paula had started mingling with the other women. You were alone in the corner, staring up at the ceiling, fiddling with your fingers. The others didn't bother you, and you couldn't see Murdoc anywhere. It had been quiet, at least, until more people started to arrive.

 

The room was cramped. Someone (that being the drummer, Keith, but you never remembered him) brought beer and so the floor became cautionary. They started sitting on top of each other, groping and pressing against each other and just didn't seem to notice you sitting next to them. People were passing around joints and you carelessly (thoughtlessly) smoked one, which attracted some people to you. They ruffled your hair, and you said something (you still can't remember what, why couldn't you remember things?) that made them laugh.

 

At first, you thought they were being friendly, but then things started to become rowdier and were there, even more, people? You felt so self-conscious when the men had women in their laps (Paula feeling a stranger's bicep made you uncomfortable). You scratched your arms. You counted to twenty, then forty, and you were more than willing for another joint.

 

Then, out of nowhere, Murdoc plopped next to you. He was shirtless, and you found yourself staring at his tattoos and his nipples before you comprehended his voice. "There you are," he had said, his arm laid on your shoulders. You could smell his sweat, his teeth awfully close. You're not sure if this was how it was earlier, but he was certainly more interested, his legs spread open. Everybody had seemed to continue with themselves, ignoring you two. Your face was hot. "Hey," you greeted as he shifted closer to you. He raked his fingers through your hair and you glanced at his belly. Cute.

 

"Did you like the show?" he asked rather softly, which made you shift in your seat. You hadn't expected the night to turn out this way, but you weren't going to complain. You nodded and put your hand on his thigh as an experiment. He didn't seem to mind. It felt nice. He instead curled a smile, his hand sliding down your side. His breath was hot against your cheek as he muttered: "you wanna come to mine?"

 

You glanced at Paula from across the room who grinned back at you.

 

* * *

 

 

 

_It had been humid that night. You were stretched over your bed, stomach exposed and your hand in your briefs. You haven't started yet, your throat itchy and the Human League on low volume. You felt your sinus acting up when you shifted and spread your legs further._

_Your mind decides on not the Philip Oakey fantasy, but instead to remind you of your worries. It wasn't like you had any plans of leaving Crawley, so who exactly in this place could understand? Your girlfriends haven't, and it wasn't as if you had the courage to start seeing men yet. Maybe you never will. Even if there were other men like you in Crawley, it wasn't as if you'd have a way to find them without exposing yourself to something you haven't gotten a hold of yet. This wouldn't be easy. You weren't suited for easy._

_Then you crank up the volume and ditch the wank session. You figured dancing away the headache would be enough._

 

* * *

 

 

 

His room had been downstairs, and he inevitably kissed you on the way there. You gasp into his mouth, the reality seeping in your skin. You wrap your arms around him and he hooked his thumb in the rings of your trousers. You moan as he pulled you closer, your arms hung loosely around him.  Then he pulled away and pressed sloppy kisses along your jaw, his sharp teeth made brief contact and you could feel yourself throbbing. It was surreal - far better than whatever Philip Oakey fantasy.

 

His mouth was warm and inviting and his hands groped and pulled and pressed you, and his fringe stuck to your forehead. You were high and delirious from the heat. You whined (something you never thought you could do) when he was completely off you.

 

Before you knew it you were in his room, on his bed and he was above you. Your chest heaved and his hands were about to pull down your trousers. when a thousand thoughts flooded through you (he doesn't know oh my God abort, for example) and you grab his hands. He paused, looked at you with hooded eyes.

 

"I'm a man," you blurted. Your grip on his hands weakened. He just looked at you skeptically. "I know that," he said, and you were expecting a lot worse, so your lips just tightened.

 

After a long moment of just breathing and sweat and a locked stare, Murdoc sits back on his heels and sighs. "Maybe we should slow down, yeah?" he had said, gets off the bed and you feel like you've made a fool of yourself.  You were sure that you were gonna get kicked out and you're gonna go running to Paula like a thick head they always told you you were but then Murdoc offered you a fag and your stress is put on hold.

 

He sits on the end of the mattress, looks you over. His hair tousled and the way his shoulder blades moved under his skin struck you as incredibly handsome so you obediently take a drag. He looked thoughtful for long moments, the thudding from above being the only noise provided. Then a smirk graces his face. "Should I put on some music?"

 

"Huh?"

 

He chuckles into his cig, shifts so his front is to you. "Do kids still do that? Put on a song during their first time and all that," he took another drag.

 

"This isn't my first time," you said, defensively, and he nodded, his smirk cracking into a smile. "Sure thing, love," he said and shifted closer to you. You weren't expecting pet names, you think when he plants a kiss on your cheek.

 

The two of you finish your cigs in silence, and your nerves pool in your stomach, forgotten. His hand pressed your thigh and his finger traces circles and it makes you want to take your trousers off something bad, but you're still insecure somehow. "What was it, then?" he said and it made you jump slightly.

 

"The song," he elaborated, and it clicked. You pulled your other leg to your chest to rest your head on your knee. "Promise you won't laugh," you said, which made him squint. "...alright," he said, crushing his cig in the ashtray on the nightstand. You breathe through your nose, look at him one more time before answering; "George Harrison's _My Sweet Lord_."

 

He broke his promise, cackling into his palm, and you shove him very lightly in protest.

 

* * *

 

_"I really wanna see you! Really wanna be with you...really want to see you, Lord, but it takes so long! My, Lord..."_

_Paula is up to her elbow in lube, and she's huffing as she looked over you. "Really? Nothing?" she said under her breath. You shook your head, guilty. It wasn't as if you weren't turned on because you clearly were. It's just that it hadn't been working. And she sighed, falling on her side next to you._

_"Stu, I'm sorry," she whispered, "you trusted me with this and I'm just mucking it up."  You held her hand. You didn't know what to say and just pressed your lips to her forehead. Then you glanced at her drawer._

_"Hey," you whispered back, "would you mind if I tried something?"_

_"Oh Lord..." George cooed on the radio._

 

* * *

 

 

 

He's in between your legs now. The trousers are off. You were taking off your shirt as he pressed his hands on your thighs. "Do you mind if I kept this on?" you had asked, referring to your binder. He glanced at your chest. "Not at all," he answered before turning his gaze back at your briefs.

 

He's staring at your crotch for what feels like hours, and you were about to say something until he presses a finger against the damp of your briefs. You gasp, a shot of pleasure through you. He drags two flat fingers down your cunt through your briefs which made you moan. "Mm, nice," he said to himself, lifting your leg over his hip. He continued dragging his fingers up and down your cunt in long, slow movements, and you move beneath him, arching into his touch. He seemed to be enjoying it, looking over you with dark eyes. You're breathing was shallow and you were so wet and hot and he had wound you up.

 

"Listen, love," his voice was hoarse, and you lifted your head, trying to pay attention, but moan when he dragged his fingers one more time. "For now, I want to pull down these briefs and eat your sweet pussy out until you're screaming for me. How does that sound?" Your breath shaky, you had enough strength to just nod, because God that sounded good. You felt yourself melt.

 

Then he hooked his thumbs in your briefs and pulled them down, causing you to yelp. He sniggers above you, his fingers raking through your wet pubic hair. "Big bush," he muttered to himself, and you feel a spike of insecurity, which probably showed as he assured with "I like it." You had felt like you could collapse any second from the throbbing, and your vagina clenched at the anticipation of having him stroke you properly.

 

Then there was a knocking.

 

He threw his head over his shoulder and told whoever was knocking to piss off. Then the knocking continued. He glanced at you, then got off you. "Wait here, love," he said and got off the bed. It had left you with a thick cloud of frustration, yet relief.

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Mike had recommended them._

_“They’re like,” he gestured with his hands, “the bollocks, mate. Crawley’s gonna be all over them before you know it.”_

_You had been eyeing one of the pamphlets for their live shows. The middleman (the frontman) was short, lean, and tan. Beneath him, in gothic font, it said “Murdoc Niccals”. His sharp jaw and crooked teeth did something to you. His eyes are looking off somewhere. A heat crawled up your neck. You had felt something you hadn’t felt since you first saw Joseph Pilato in Day of The Dead. You crossed your legs._

_“Yeah, whatever, mate,” your voice cracked when he handed the record to you._

 

* * *

 

 

 

He stood at the end of the bed, looming over you. His eyes are dark and watching. “You look nice like that,” he said hoarsely. Everything felt like a haze. It’s not long until he’s again at your side, on his stomach and his hands on your thighs. He kisses the middle of your ribcage, then pauses to glance at you. Then, abruptly, he raspberries your stomach, which caused an eruption of laughter to flow out of you. He smiles up at you, his hands coaxing you to spread your legs. “That’s better.”

He then shifted to lay between your legs and leaned down, resting his head on your upper thigh. You shuddered at the softness of his stubble on your skin and the tip of his nose against his cunt. He breathed you in, humming softly as he nuzzled and pressed little kisses against your plump lips. His breath came out warm little puffs that made you squirm for more sensation.

“Mm, you smell so good, Stu,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated pleasantly down into your core. That had been the first time he called you by your name during this encounter. He brought his fingers back up and started to stroke you properly, slowly and rhythmically. Your breath was caught in your throat. You could feel yourself get wetter and wetter under his touch.

“How do you feel, love?” he asked, his voice against your cunt made you shiver. “Fantastic,” you answered, your voice exasperated. You could feel his smile. “Good.”

Murdoc slipped three fingers into his mouth and sucked them, making them slick and ready. And although you already knew it was coming, you still cried out when he slid a finger inside you. “Oh,” he laughed, “that’s nice.” He slid a second finger alongside the first one. His thrusts started slow but soon became faster and harder. You bucked your hips against him, biting your lip. His thumb brushed your clit, but it wasn’t nearly enough. A part of you wanted to kick him in the head for being such a tease.

“C’mon, love, moan for me,” he said before he finally licked you. You threw your head back. It felt so right, his tongue pushing in and out of you, tasting you. It strengthened the ache in your clit and it made you desperately clutch the sheets. “Murdoc,” you choked out, a spill of moans following afterward. You had never felt so wet in your life, all the feeling coming from your cunt.

You almost arched off the bed when he slid in a third finger, the thrust of his fingers in rhythm with his tongue. You lift yourself enough to look down at him. Murdoc Niccals was eating you out like it had all he’d been wanting to do that night. It hit you how real this was. That you could simply just have this.

Your climax was building, coiling in the base of your spine. You could feel nothing but the pleasure of his lips, his tongue, and his fingers. “Oh Murdoc, _fuck!_ ” you screamed as your body arched and you shook with the force of your orgasm.

Your body collapsed again onto the soaked mattress. As you’re recovering from your climax, Murdoc sits back on his knees, looking over you. He was hard, but it didn’t seem he was going to rush you into anything just yet.

Once you’ve come to, you take off your binder. As soon as you were bare, Murdoc’s mouth was on your left breast, licking your nipple. His hand reached and teased your other nipple. You were back to moaning again, and then you felt Murdoc’s erection slide against your hip. When he kissed you, you instantly gripped his dick, which caused him to moan into your mouth. You pumped him, and It wasn’t long until he came in your hand.

“Holy fuck, love,” he said, panting above you, “there’s no way we’re stopping now.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

_“Hey, I know you.” Keith’s rancid, alcoholic breath made you wince. “You’re the blue kid. Hey, Liam!”_

_The crowd had moved against you. There was sick on your shoes. You could see him. Murdoc. A cool washed over you and you felt yourself run._

_It embarrasses you when you remember how Liam called after you._

 

* * *

 

 

 

He had a strap on. Of course, Murdoc Niccals had a strap on.

He wanted it against the wall. Your breasts pressed against his back. Your hips pressed against the back of his thighs. Your thrust was shallow, but it had him trembling. “Stu, please,” his hand gripped your hair, your forehead against the back of his head now. It was like you two were being melded together. Your thrusts then became faster and the sound of wet slaps filled the room. You gripped his hips so hard you were sure it’d leave a bruise.

“Yes, fuck, Stu that’s so good, oh yes right _there_ , oh,” he kept chanting and you had felt the wet from your cunt return. You were both panting now, and you reached around to pump him when the pre-cum made you gasp. He smiled, turned his head to press a wet kiss to your jaw. “That’s nice, that’s nice.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Paula had gotten you footage from a friend of a friend. It was some low-quality recording of a live show. You weren’t too impressed. The difference? Murdoc had been shirtless._

_You had gotten off to it. You didn’t know how, but you did. Oh, you knew exactly_ why _you had. It was just a good idea to not mention it when you loaned it to Mike._

_“Do they sound authentic or what?” Mike had asked. You scratched your upper arm. Oh, right. “Um, yeah,” you mumbled. Even trading actual porn wasn’t this awkward._

 

* * *

 

 

 

You were gripping the headboard. “C’mon,” he breathed against your cunt. You hovered above him and kept jerking back whenever he pressed his tongue to your lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to even look at him. You gasp when he grasped your hips. “You are a fucking tease- _sit on my face_.”

You do with a huff, sitting on his chest, but he pulls you forward into his mouth. His tongue lapped you up, focusing in on your throbbing clit. You felt small shocks of pleasure shoot through you from every little bit of attention on your clit, your head was thrown back and all sorts of noises spilling out.

There were just the moans escaping your mouth, the wet sounds from your cunt, his groaning between your thighs and the ever-present thudding from above.

 

* * *

 

 

 

_It hit you when you were flipping through the latest Dazed and Confused. It hit you when you saw his face on the spread. It hit you when you folded the corner of the page to read for later._

_You look up, see a couple giggling at the end of the aisle. You three were the only ones in the emporium._

_You had seen Murdoc Niccals before._

 

* * *

 

 

 

Your leg was draped over his lap. His hand massaged your thigh and the other reached for the phone sitting idly on the bedside table. You were both naked, warm and wet from your multiple orgasms, and you felt yourself nestle back into the pillows.

“Is amazing, really,” he said to you, a hand on the receiver, “you can ask for anything. Come, now. What do you want?” You considered it, then bit into your smile. “Socks,” you answered, “I want socks.”

He stared back at you. “What? Why?”

You shrugged. “Nothing can beat that comfy toe feeling, I guess.”

“Oh,” he said before returning to the phone.

 

* * *

 

 

 

He kissed your breast. Then he kissed your shoulder before resting his head on it. He was still massaging your thigh with his one hand, but the other was now occupied with a joint. Yours, too. You both smoked in silence. You wiggled your toes in your new socks and smiled down at him.

“I used to see you around,” you whispered. “I work in this emporium- I used to see you there. You smoked at the back.”

Murdoc scoffed, glanced up at you. “I saw you, too. I told you,” he kissed your neck, “I remember that blue head.”

You smiled into his hair, forgetting your joint altogether.

 

* * *

 

 

 

There were strawberries now.

You shared the bowl between you two, the sweetness refreshing. You had been riding a high, but you could still remember how Murdoc began to soften in a blink. There were few tears in his eyes, and he pressed them into your collarbone. You held him and listened. He shook in your arms, telling you in a mess of words about his life. You rubbed his back.

“You’re not like the others; you’re a good listener,” he breathed into your neck. He then pushed himself off you, kissing your mouth before sliding off the bed. “I want to see you again.”

You had exchanged phone numbers before you promptly left – you took the socks with you.

You tucked your shirt into your pants, looked back at him. He sat on the bed in only his boxers, his eyes were warm from the crying. “Goodbye, love.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

He didn’t call you.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Four months later, Dazed and Confused reported that Two’s A Crowd had officially split.

 

* * *

 

 

 

August 15th, 1997, three months after Two’s A Crowd had split, he called you.

“You missed me?”

You recognized him.

**Author's Note:**

> my gay gorillaz blog is @russdoc


End file.
